


Dream a little dream (of me)

by HanHan_Solo156



Series: The Flame is set - Paulchard prequels [1]
Category: Rammstein
Genre: Alternate Band History, Dreams, Early Rammstein, Fluff, M/M, Prequel, Young Paulchard, awkward moments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:54:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24554209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HanHan_Solo156/pseuds/HanHan_Solo156
Summary: Even though Rammstein is still in a garage band phase, Richard likes to dream big.Especially if it’s something where his fellow guitarist is involved as well.
Relationships: Richard Kruspe/Paul Landers
Series: The Flame is set - Paulchard prequels [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1774696
Comments: 4
Kudos: 26
Collections: Hanhan's Paulchard main series





	Dream a little dream (of me)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm now in a spot with my main Paulchard series that I know exactly how the story should be continuing, but I just can't get the ideas out of my head to the screen for whatever reason. Well, my solution is to start a new series once again, haha! Maybe it makes sense though as it's a prequel series for the main one, telling little stories about Richard and Paul's past and how they were drawn towards each other since the early days - refusing to admit it to themselves though.
> 
> This story is set in the 90's, their band had just started and Ollie hasn't yet joined them. I'm playing around with the band history and making up things of my own as it's not meant to be a biography, just my weird ideas. If you have read my earlier work "Pandora's box" there is an epilogue chapter with a flashback scene and this is continuation for it kinda - just months later.
> 
> As always, enjoy, and kudos/comments/all kind of feedback is always welcome. ^-^

Most of the people thought that abandoned ramshackle houses full of graffitis should be demolished as soon as possible while for Richard, these buildings had their own charm. Maybe it was because he was so used to fleeing from home - the place that had never been a synonym for safety for him. Staying numerous times in random houses, camping places and, park benches though was familiar: in those, he could feel safe from the outer world and the judging gazes of the other people.

In silence, Richard was sitting on a windowsill of an attic of his favorite abandoned house this far. He kept gazing at the distance from a shattered window - or could it even be called window anymore as it was merely a hole in a wall - sucking in the bitter taste of a cigarette.

He tended to spend time here after band practices: to process their rehearsals and get inspiration for new material as well. Sometimes, he even brought an acoustic guitar with him, but not today. Instead of playing he just wanted to concentrate on immersing in his own thoughts.

A football match was going on in a nearby stadium and Richard could hear aggressive shouting and whistles. He chuckled by himself - to be honest, he had never understood sports. Once in his teenagehood, he had tried wrestling only to find it wasn’t his thing. The misstep was more caused by peer pressure than his own interest. At least, he had learned a lesson: _yep_ , screw athletics, music was his thing - his inner fire. Let the sporty guys enjoy running after a leather ball like rats in a cage when he had better things to do.

The stadium made Richard restless - a wistful knot in his stomach tightening - and not because of the match. An unrealistic - yet pleasant - thought appeared to his mind: what if someday, instead of this mindless game there would be their band performing? Yes, he knew how stupid and childish that dream was - especially when they hadn’t played together even a year yet - but Richard couldn’t help it. He had always been a wild dreamer and the fact hadn’t changed by years.

On the contrary, he felt it was only getting stronger but at least it was something no one could ever take from him - not even his freaking stepfather. His mind and wild ideas had been his sanctuary when he had been locked into his own room for days, not behaving as his family wanted.

 _With that attitude you will never achieve anything,_ had his stepfather once said after a disastrous family dinner. _You must learn some manners, you arrogant brat._

_I will teach you that lesson. You just need some discipline._

That evening, his dear Kiss poster had been torn in pieces, leaving Richard locked into his room crying alone. But thanks to his stubbornness, he had glued the pieces back together. 

He had the discipline: just that he wasn’t good at following anyone’s commands.

It was funny to think sometimes what his family would think about him putting so much of his effort and time for a band. Who could know, but Richard tried his best not to care.

This band project had at least started as a promising one. Richard’s and his fellow weirdo’s and poet Till Lindemann’s encounter had been like a match made in heaven. Soon Richard had realized that even though how shy and modest, Till was a brilliant artist who had something to say to the world. His dark thoughts and art had hooked Richard immediately and he would do anything to encourage their singer to express himself. If it meant they’d play gigs with Till showing only his back to the audience, let it be like that then. Heck, even Jim Morrison was too shy to perform properly at first.

Along with Till, his best buddy, there was Flake - a modest keyboard wizard whose sense of humor Richard still didn’t understand - Schneider - whose parents had been kind enough to lend their basement as their band practice room - and then…

_Paul._

Richard gulped audibly when the name appeared to his mind. He still wasn’t sure how to behave around the other guitarist. Should he be considered a rival? As a friend? Or… something else?

From the beginning, Richard had feared Paul would take his place and everyone would like him more - but that hadn’t happened. They had stayed together, Paul fitting in their crazy group perfectly and was even willing to give new inspiration and ideas for songs and arrangements. Paul also always listened to Richard carefully. Maybe it was just the fact they didn’t know each other so well yet and their true faces would be shown when they actually started doing gigs and recording, but right now Richard was sure it was a great idea to accept Paul to the band.

But still, even though how nice and accepting Paul was, something in that silly little blond sent shivers down Richard’s spine. 

Maybe there was something he didn’t want to admit - a growing feeling, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

_…a crush?_

Richard shook his head. _No fucking way._ He had reasoned the weird longing sensation many times already: yes, he had been lonely for his whole life. Yes, he had been used only for someone else’s purposes and that’s why it was difficult to trust anyone. But when Herr Paul Landers had walked - or to be precise, cycled - into his life unexpectedly he had suddenly grown fond of the man, not finding it difficult at all to trust him.

Heck, Paul was definitely… _something._ But what? Richard didn’t know.

Cursing by himself of the hot flush on his cheeks Richard concentrated on staring at the football stadium. 

But still, when he thought about performing in the stadium hopefully someday, he wished Paul was there with him. _God_ , how he wished this band would stick together even how silly it sounded.

Leaning back Richard let out a desperate sigh. He closed his eyes and let the sun caress his cheeks. No matter how lousy this place might have been in someone else’s opinion, for him it was aesthetic - reflecting his dark mindset perfectly. 

Almost like a luxury.

But then the door in the lower floor opened with a loud slam. 

Annoyed at his pleasant state being interrupted Richard grunted, forced to open his eyes. _Who the hell could it be? Hopefully, not those teenagers from the neighborhood once again doing their bad quality graffitis._

With firm steps and still not saying anything, the intruder proceeded and started climbing the ladders to the attic.

Richard froze to his place and was almost ready to jump on the intruder, when...

“Ah, here you are! Hallo!” the newcomer exclaimed and raised a plastic bag in his hand. “I was passing by and decided to try my luck if you’d be here. I brought something for the evening.”

Even though there was no danger Richard was still on his toes. _Speak of the devil and he appears._ Richard had mentioned this little sanctuary to Paul but hadn’t expected his fellow guitarist to visit him this soon.

“Nice that you managed to fit meeting me in your extremely busy schedule,” Richard said, pure sarcasm in his tone that was meant to hide his insecurity. 

Paul gave a huge eyeroll Richard pretended he didn’t see - instead he acted as the football game interested him more than his fellow guitarist’s arrival.

Being a mischievous little trickster Paul wasn’t pleased for the ignoring, so he had to play it dirty.

Taking just a couple of steps forward and without any prior warning he gave a tiny, but a wet peck on Richard’s forehead.

“Hah!” Paul exclaimed victoriously when Richard turned to look at him with wide eyes.

“W-w… what?” Richard mumbled and rubbed his forehead. “W… what was that for?”

Pleased for the reaction Paul grinned so widely it looked like it illuminated the dark attic. “For reasons,” was his vague reply before he tilted his head. “You didn’t like it?”

Richard cleared his throat and positioned himself better on the windowsill. He was a man of cuddling and kisses, but from Paul, it was somehow… different. Richard felt like he was back in the elementary school and crushing hard for someone cute who was suddenly now interested in him as well.

Or that was what he thought, _hoped_ for in secret. 

As Paul couldn’t stand silence for too long he tried to change the subject and dug up a bottle from his plastic bag. “What about having a beer then?” 

Shaken from his thoughts, Richard blinked and replied: “Y-yes, please.” He took the bottle, relieved he had something else to think about than what had just happened.

Paul took himself a bottle as well and sat to the other side of the narrow windowsill. It started creaking ominously and Richard wondered would it come down from both of their weights.

Lighting up another cigarette to cool his frantic nerves down Richard offered Paul one as well. The other man just grinned and shook his head. “I try to quit and I suggest the same for you. If you keep smoking in chains like that there might be a chance you wouldn’t see your fortieth birthday, I’m afraid.”

Richard snorted. _Is he now trying to teach me manners or what?_ “Does it matter? I just want my life to be memorable no matter how short or long it will be.” On purpose, he blew a thick cloud of smoke to his bandmate’s face who grunted as a response. 

Paul coughed. ”Hey, that’s… that’s not fair!”

The only answer from Richard was a wide grin: he had gotten his revenge for Paul getting him off guard so he was more than pleased. _Gotcha, you bastard._

When they both got tired of competing who could tease the other more, Richard continued watching the distance sinking into his thoughts again.

“What are you thinking? You look almost… sad,” Paul asked out of sudden.

”For Christ’s sake, I’m not a 9-year-old girl, I’m not _sad_ ,” Richard replied, annoyed from the other man distracting him all the time. “Why… why would you think so?”

“Well, at least how much I know about you already is that you dislike sports while now you are staring at the game like it was the most fascinating tv show ever.” Paul took a sip from his beer and watched the stadium as well. “To be honest, I have no clue what is going on in there.”

Richard sighed and bit his lower lip. “I have just been thinking that… well,” he started and shook his head. ”Forget it... it’s… it’s stupid.”

His friend’s sudden timid behavior ignited the boyish curiosity in Paul. Setting the beer to the floor he turned to look at his fellow guitarist with wide eyes. “Even though how much I love to tease you, of course, you can tell me anything.”

Richard fidgeted with the bottle in his hand and didn’t meet his friend’s eyes when he whispered: “Promise me that you wouldn’t laugh at me.”

“C’mon, why in the hell I’d laugh at you?” Paul said trying to sound convincing. “I’m just dying to know what is on your mind when you look that thoughtful.” He placed his hand under his chin and kept staring at Richard.

That look must have pierced Richard’s soul as even though how uneasy he felt he had no choice anymore. _Damn it._ “Well, I have perhaps told you about how I didn’t get along with my stepfather and stuff like that…”

“Yes.” Paul looked almost surprised when Richard actually started talking to him.

“And how music and dreaming of something big was my sanctuary. Something that asshole could never take from me.”

“Yeah, carry on.”

Richard ran a hand through his hair and chuckled. “Man, you must think I’m a little kid when I’m describing this kind of stuff…”

“Please, just tell me,” Paul begged and took Richard’s hand. “I’m all eyes and ears now.”

Baffled once again for the unexpected proximity Richard felt how his heart probably missed a beat. With a shaky breath, he said: “O… okay.” He cleared his throat. “Well, the thing is… when I see a stadium like that I can’t help but… dream of... playing there one day. For thousands of people.”

”With… us? With Rammstein?” 

Richard nodded and dumped his cigarette not knowing what the next reaction would be.

”Wow.” Paul let go of the hand and leaned back. He didn’t lose his eye contact though. “From that second when I met you I knew you were an ambitious man, but wow… that’s far out.”

Richard couldn’t read Paul’s expression - maybe it was ridiculous to tell him these things. Heck, they were still broke, barely had any finished songs, and practiced in Schneider’s parents’ basement. They’ve had a couple of gigs to which maybe 20 people had attended - mostly friends and family who were there more because of pity than actually believing they’d be something bigger someday. 

“I just can’t help but… I’ve always had big goals. And one of them is to play there,” Richard said and pointed at the stadium. “Man, I wish so much we could be there one day. Preferably, having a whole stadium tour. Not only here, but in all around Europe and the US as well.”

“And how our show would be? Till too afraid showing his face to the audience?”

Richard shook his head. “I believe that with practice, anyone can achieve anything. Even though he’s shy we should give him time and space. The man might be timid, but he’s a genius. The world needs to hear his poetry and we all must help him to get heard.”

Paul turned to gaze at the distance. “Maybe you are right. I’m just worried would it go too much on his nerves if we push him too hard.” 

”We have to give him a chance. I just… I just know we have to,” Richard said and gulped. “I know it in my heart that… we will be big someday if we just try hard enough.”

Not letting the atmosphere get too sensitive Paul started to bomb Richard with questions.“But how is our show then? Are we having costumes? Are you the biggest star? What is my role? A background dancer when you are the main act?” 

“Oh, c’mon you think I love myself so much it would be only me?”

”That’s why I asked,” Paul replied. “We need the bass player as soon as possible though or otherwise, Flake must be like Ray Manzarek, playing with a double keyboard.”

“Do you think he would agree on that?”

“I doubt that. Actually, I think he would rather force me to play bass in that case,” Paul said. “But no fucking way I’d be a bass player. I’d get bored immediately and besides bassists never get any groupies. And I’m definitely not accepting that, don’t you agree?”

“Well, that’s true,” Richard said and they both chuckled, the weird tense and sensitive mood lightening a tiny bit.

Always with Paul, it was so easy to be around - he had an ability to bring sunshine everywhere he visited. That Richard had never come across before - maybe that’s why Paul was so fascinating.

Having difficulties to stay still, Paul stood up and throw his hands in the air. At the same time, he closed his eyes and hummed contently by himself.

Richard looked at the sight in front of him, amused. “Umm, what are you doing now?” He didn’t have the slightest clue how this evening would turn out.

“I’m just trying to get the image to my head as well,” Paul replied and rotated around. “And hell, I agree it is _sweet_ indeed. Let’s get famous and kick out those football players as soon as possible.”

Richard stood up as well. “This may sound I have no life at all, but I actually have a vision of how we... should enter the stage and what kind of costumes we could have.”

Opening his eyes, Paul said: “Tell me about them, please.” It was more like a command than a request.

When Richard didn’t answer anything but just left Paul thought the other man had escaped on purpose, but no: he was soon back with a long brown fur coat, grinning like a little boy in a candy shop.

Paul burst out into laughter. “Man, where did you dig that up from? From your dead grandma’s collection?”

“Well, I’ve been here a million times, so I might have my own stash already. Isn’t it stylish?”

“I didn’t say it isn’t stylish, just… different how I’m used to seeing you,” Paul said and checked his friend from head to toe. “Just that… I wouldn’t have believed how well long coats suit you.” He tried to be his own witty self while his voice was timider than usual.

Richard acted like he hadn’t heard the compliment and started pacing around the room loyal to his own dramatic style. “I have a vision of the stage. It’s huge - something no one has ever seen. We come there one by one, there are explosions and cool lights.” He acted like he was actually walking on a catwalk.

“This is only getting better,” Paul muttered his eyes still fixed on the other man. ”Just carry on, I’m dying to know what happens next.”

Perfecting his minimalistic costume Richard put sunglasses on. They looked ridiculous inside the dark room, but he didn’t care. Instead, he continued explaining his vision. “I come to the stage and everyone’s cheering their lungs out. Soon, I’m followed by you and the other guys. Till is the last, like a cherry on top. The first song should be a bit slower. Dramatic still, of course.”

“I doubt we’d ever have slow songs, but okay.”

Richard took his glasses off and looked at Paul with a serious expression. “We must have. Every great band has ballads. Something for everyone, y’know?”

”Whatever you say, mein Freund, whatever you say,” Paul said as he didn’t want his friend to get upset. “I’m just curious to know how would we be able to afford all that? Stadium concert costs millions.”

Richard stepped closer and a determined look in his eyes, said: “We will be rich then, so budget is not stopping us. I refuse money stopping reaching our goals _ever._ ”

 _We’ll see about that,_ Paul thought but didn’t say anything out loud. He admired the other man’s ambitious mindset though and was sure that if they’d ever get big with Rammstein it must be Richard who would drive them forward when no one else would believe in them anymore.

As Richard wasn’t done yet, he stepped back and continued: “After the slower song, when the audience is on fire, we start properly. There are huge explosions, our guitars sound like machine guns. People go totally nuts. We all are on fire, doing what we were meant for.

That moment, I look at the sea of people and once in my life… I feel… I feel that…” 

When Richard stopped Paul had to ask: “You feel what?” 

With glossy eyes, Richard stopped by next to the window and glanced outside. “I feel that... I have achieved something. I’m a _star._ I have finally proven all those assholes in my life that this failure was worth something.

And to get there, I’m ready to do anything, Paul. _Anything._

And if it means I’m dying alone before I hit my forties, then let it be like that. At least, people will talk about me on their dinner tables. I refuse to be forgotten _._ ”

Paul stepped closer to his friend who didn’t meet his eyes. “Do you think you would be happy then? With fame, money, and success?” 

“Yes,” Richard replied without the slightest hesitation. He turned to look at Paul with wistful eyes. “That is my dream.”

But Paul wasn’t fully convinced. “But… has it ever come to your mind that what if after you have achieved all this you still aren’t content? What if nothing is enough and you will be searching for more and more ending up being even more miserable?”

Richard’s eyes narrowed and he muttered: “I knew I shouldn’t have told you.” He stepped away to throw the fur coat where it was. This was a bad idea. He knew very well how stupid he was, he had his head in the clouds, he should get a life and…

But before he could do what he was up to, Paul grabbed Richard’s shoulder and turned the other man to face him. They were so close Richard could feel Paul’s warmth on his skin - and his own heart was pounding like it was the last day of his life. He hoped the other man didn’t notice it.

Without any warning, Paul traced his index finger on Richard’s face and cupped his cheek. “You are not stupid and it’s good to dream big. I’m just sensing that you would never be satisfied with anything even though how much money, fame, and success you’d get.”

“W-what do you mean?”

Paul looked at Richard straight in the eyes when he clarified: “Just remember you shouldn’t isolate yourself from others to reach your goal. You shouldn’t spank yourself too much. Just enjoy the… moment. Learn to enjoy your life. Respect yourself.

Because at least I have learned to respect you. To be honest I... like you… a lot, actually.”

The words weren’t probably meant to be said out loud as Paul looked shocked himself as well - a Freudian slip? ”I… I mean… you are talented and… I’m happy to be in this band with you so thank you.”

With wide eyes, Richard kept staring at his fellow guitarist. Heck, how badly he wanted to joke something about why Paul had to turn so philosophical and cheesy out of a sudden, but he couldn’t.

 _Is he leaning even... closer?_ Richard thought as he noticed they were chest against chest, their frantic heartbeats in sync. 

Richard wondered would a cliché movie scene happen next as he could see how Paul licked his lips and glanced for a nanosecond Richard’s lips that had turned dry. His expression was gentle yet absolutely riveting. Even how terrified Richard was, barely able to breathe anymore, he couldn’t take his eyes off the sight.

_Oh shit. I’m not ready for this… fucking shit, why now..._

Richard held his breath and just when something was about to happen Paul’s expression changed.

The spell was breaking as fast it had appeared.

“Scheisse…” Paul mumbled - he was snapped out of his thoughts. He looked at his watch. “Fucking fuck!”

To Richard’s relief - and well also, disappointment - Paul let go of his grip and took his jacket. “I just… just remembered I had a date, fuck. Alisa will rip my eyes out if I’m gonna be late again.” He fumbled the rest of his stuff. “You can keep the beer.”

“D-danke…” Richard mumbled and blinked his eyes. To his ears, his voice sounded it was far away from here.

Paul turned one last time to Richard before he started descending the ladders. “But we’ll see you tomorrow, right? 6 pm, wasn’t it?”

“Y-yes… have fun with your… date.” Why was it so difficult to say out loud? Richard could only wonder.

Paul nodded. “I will. And I’m sorry, I would have liked to stay here longer with you, but I had totally forgotten the date. But some other day we’ll get drunk and talk about our crazy dreams again, I promise.” He waved his hand. “Tschüss!”

”Bye,” Richard managed to say when Paul was already on his way downstairs.

The silence landed the house again when soon the door slammed. Richard sat back on the windowsill. The football match in the stadium was getting to its end but he didn’t care - his whole body was still shaking.

_What on earth was that? What does he want from me? Was he making fun of me?_

_Maybe… he could actually be… interested in… me? Just a little bit? Was that a hint?_

Richard shook his head. _No fucking way._ _He has a girlfriend, so just stop it._

Something vulnerable had been set loose tonight when Richard had told Paul about his crazy dreams, sharing intimate moments both physically and mentally.

Just that Richard wasn’t sure whether it was a good thing or not to get closer with his bandmate.


End file.
